


Invitation

by randomwriter57



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Midsummer, Slow Dancing, i think???, it's pretty light okay, onesided mikleo/uno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 14:03:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14594610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomwriter57/pseuds/randomwriter57
Summary: The same thing happens every year. Sorey and Mikleo make a promise: this year, if no one asks them to the Midsummer’s Ball, they’ll go together. And every year, without fail, someone asks Sorey to the ball, and Sorey accepts.This year, however, things are different.





	Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> I'm supposed to be working on editing a longfic oops but one day I really felt like writing something else. I found a writing prompt I liked and put a twist on it, and this came about. I hope you enjoy the result!
> 
> [Prompt:](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/171085585084/both-a-and-b-are-close-friends-and-they-make-a) Both A and B are close friends, and they make a promise each year that if neither of them get a date to the prom they would go together. This year, A’s friend tells them that they got rejected by B because B said they already had a date. But when A asks B if they have a date, they say “No, I guess I’m going with you this year.”

The same thing happens every year.

Sorey and Mikleo make a promise: this year, if no one asks them to the Midsummer’s Ball, they’ll go together. It’s the biggest celebration in the kingdom, and Sorey always convinces Mikleo to attend, even despite Mikleo’s lack of care for dances in general. And every year, without fail, someone asks Sorey to the ball, and Sorey accepts.

Five years and six broken hearts later, this is still a tradition for them. When Mikleo thinks it might be time to end it, he remembers how none of those six people have come to resent Sorey, despite him having broken up with five of them after their nights together at the Midsummer’s Ball.

Sorey probably doesn’t realise he’s even broken the sixth person’s heart. But that’s alright. Mikleo will just keep repairing it each year, allowing his hopes to rise even for a day or two, before the inevitable confession comes from Sorey.

_‘Someone asked me to the Midsummer’s Ball,’_ he’ll say.

And every year, Mikleo will keep his feelings to himself, nodding with a blank expression. _‘I see. Well, I’m sure you’ll have a good evening.’_

For the past five years, Mikleo has gone to the ball alone. It’s not a fact that hurts him in any way - in fact, he hardly ever feels like he’s attending alone. When he’s not surrounded by local friends, like Rose and Lailah, he’s third-wheeling Sorey and his date of the evening, though not intentionally.

Last year, it had been a pretty stranger in a blush pink dress, her brunette hair decorated with yellow carnations. She reminded Mikleo of Neapolitan ice cream, and she seemed just as sweet, when Sorey introduced her to him. They had looked good together, too, but evidently the feelings there had not been mutual. At the night’s end, Mikleo saw the girl leaving, alone, with a pained smile on her face. Sorey, on the other hand, wore a regretful expression. The two didn’t go out together again.

Though it feels like a thorn through his heart each time Sorey accepts an invitation, he tries to be as supportive as possible. Honestly, he hopes one day Sorey will find someone he’d like to stay with even after the ball. Even if that person isn’t him, he’ll be happy so long as Sorey is happy.

That’s what he tells himself, at the very least.

But he can’t help the feelings in his heart, can’t help the love he’s felt for Sorey since the third year, when he finally understood why it hurt to hear that Sorey had accepted an invitation again.

It had started as a casual tradition, but now it’s a yearly reminder of how little of a chance Mikleo has of his feelings being reciprocated. It’s a yearly exercise in his loyalty to his friend.

The Midsummer’s Ball is his grounding moment - the night he remembers his place, when it is the most crucial time for him to hide his feelings behind a mask.

Sorey can never know Mikleo is in love with him. If he does, Mikleo knows he will never get to go to the ball with him.

Or so he thinks.

 

* * *

 

A few nights before the Midsummer’s Ball, everything is coming together. Decorations of flowers and lanterns pop up in the town square, lining the streets toward the Royal Gardens where the main event will take place. The invitations are sent out, a sprig of lavender attached to the seal, beautiful cursive ink detailing the time and place of the event, all signed by Princess Alisha herself.

Both Sorey and Mikleo receive an invitation, as always. With them both being young nobles, not high in rank but close enough with the princess that their friendship earns them status, it’s only natural that they would be invited. Some years, Mikleo wishes Alisha would save him the trouble and not send him an invitation at all. If she did that, he wouldn’t have to watch Sorey dance with someone else again.

At least he’ll be able to see his friends at the dance. It is that fact which he consoles himself with. It’s not often they get to see Alisha, after all, since she’s so busy with her royal duties.

Except this year, as he relaxes in his garden, the sound of footsteps catches him off-guard. He glances over to see a familiar figure on his garden path, heading toward him.

“Good afternoon, Mikleo,” Alisha says, drawing back the hood of her cloak to reveal her face.

“Alisha,” Mikleo says, setting the book he’d been reading aside. “This is a surprise. You’re not busy with preparations for the ball?”

“I had a moment to spare, so I thought I might pay you a visit,” she says, taking a seat on the bench beside him. “I must also admit that I’d hoped to find you to ask for some solace on something.”

Mikleo feels a hint of concern run through him, and he turns to pay her proper attention. “Is something wrong?”

Surprisingly, Alisha gives a little laugh, shaking her head. “It’s a trivial matter, I must admit, but I do not know who else to talk to.”

“What happened?” Mikleo asks.

Alisha takes in a deep breath, smoothing her hands over her skirt. “For a year or so now, I’ve convinced myself that I have feelings for a certain person. However, when I asked him to accompany me to the ball, his response puzzled me.”

Though he’s curious, Mikleo refrains from asking the identity of this person. After all, it’s Alisha’s private business, not his. “What did he say?”

“He told me he already has a date,” Alisha says. “But then he asked why I invited him. Once I confessed my intentions to him, he seemed surprised, and told me he never thought I would have feelings for him. It was when he said that that I began to wonder - have I been wrong about my feelings all this time?”

“I must admit, I’m not sure why you thought I’d be the best person to ask about this,” Mikleo says. “I’m not much experienced in this kind of thing. Still, do you think you were wrong?”

Alisha’s eyes meet his and she sighs. “I’m not sure. I respect him and am grateful for his friendship, to be sure. Perhaps the pressure of my family telling me to search for a husband has made me think that any male friend I have might be a potential candidate.”

Mikleo nods sagely. Since she will turn eighteen this year and be of marrying age, he can see why she’d be concerned about that kind of thing. “Did you want to kiss him at all? Or to court him in any other way?”

At his words, Alisha looks thoughtful for a moment before shaking her head. “I don’t believe I’ve thought much of doing that with anyone, to be honest.”

“If that’s the case, I don’t think you really had feelings for him,” Mikleo says.

An expression of relief crosses Alisha’s face, and her shoulders relax. “That would make sense. Sorey must have noticed that, then.”

Mikleo blinks. “Sorey? Did you ask him about this first?”

“Oh, I didn’t say before,” Alisha says, a light pink crossing her cheeks. “Sorey is the one whom I asked to the ball.”

Things begin to fall into place for him at that moment. The first thing is a wave of relief at the thought that, though Alisha thought she may have liked Sorey, that didn’t end up being the case. His second thought, however, strikes a little harder.

_‘Sorey already has a date to the ball’._

He expected as much, but it would have been nice to hear it from Sorey’s mouth. It’s harder to hide his heartbreak from someone who he doesn’t know quite so well.

Perhaps noticing his reaction, Alisha bites her lip. “It only happened an hour or so ago, though, so I suppose it’s not a surprise that Sorey hasn’t had a chance to tell you, yet.”

“I suppose not,” Mikleo says quietly.

Even though it hurts now to hear it, at least he’ll be able to keep a straight face when Sorey breaks it to him again, later on.

For now, he’ll bear this pain in his heart and do his best to move on. After all, he doesn’t know what he expected, really. It’s the same thing every year.

Sorey always goes to the ball with someone who is not Mikleo.

 

* * *

 

It’s not that Mikleo never gets invited to the ball. In fact, he usually receives almost as many invitations as Sorey, though the number has been dwindling over the past couple of years, as rumours of his reputation have gotten out.

The key difference between Sorey and Mikleo is that where Sorey always accepts invitations, Mikleo always refuses them.

For the first three years, his refusal was simpler. He never felt comfortable dancing with someone he didn’t know well, and he didn’t want to accept an invitation from someone who only wanted the comfort of his status. More recently, however, as his feelings have changed, his refusal has become indication of that. His first thought when someone asks him to the ball nowadays is not that they are a stranger, but that they are not the one person he wants to ask him out.

Of course, he knows how childish this is. Even knowing Sorey has a date, that Sorey will never not have a date, he always refuses any chance to have a date himself.

The day after his conversation with Alisha, Mikleo bumps into a young viscount on the riverside path. His hair frames the soft lines of his jaw and his blue eyes are surprisingly warm. When Viscount Uno asks him to join him in a walk by the river, Mikleo accepts.

When, after an hour of pleasant conversation and taking in the nature, Uno asks Mikleo to the dance, Mikleo accepts.

It’s with half a heavy heart that he does so, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. After all, if there’s no chance of him ever attending the ball with the one he truly wants to go with, he might as well attend with someone else, and try to move on from his unrequited feelings.

When they part, Mikleo tries to feel optimistic, despite the lingering regret in the back of his throat.

 

* * *

 

Mikleo doesn’t see Sorey until the night before the ball.

It’s not that he’s trying to delay the inevitable - no matter how little he wants to hear those words from Sorey’s mouth, he really has been drowning in work recently, thanks to his uncle’s latest research trip. Seriously, how that man thinks he can continue shirking off his duties onto his nephew, he’ll never know.

To be truthful, Mikleo doesn’t want to have to tell Sorey that he also already has a date to the dance. He doesn’t want to see Sorey being happy for him, to hear his congratulations, to hear him suggest that they could have a double date, if things go well. He doesn’t want to think about what might happen if things go well, both for Sorey and his date, and for Mikleo with Uno.

But then Sorey turns up at his house that night, wearing his casual clothing and suggesting they go on a walk around the gardens, and Mikleo’s heart thumps loudly in his chest. He forgets his worries as he nods his acceptance.

The gardens at night feel almost magical. Some of the flowers close up under the moonlight, but others flourish, their petals glowing an ethereal white. Fireflies fill the air, and a calm breeze rustles the leaves on the trees. If he didn’t know better, this moment might feel almost romantic - especially as Sorey turns to face him once they reach Mikleo’s favourite part of the garden, near a small pond filled with carp and lily-pads.

“About this year’s ball,” Sorey says, his voice as light as can be. “You remember our promise, right?”

Mikleo’s heart clenches in pain, but he keeps an even tone. “Of course I do.”

Sorey’s green eyes shine as he says, “No one asked me this year.”

At this moment, Mikleo’s heart tears in two.

He feels a mixture of emotions welling up inside of him, a flurry of joy and sadness and bitter regret and confusion all fighting for dominance, leaving him slack-mouthed and with only one coherent thought: _‘Not like this, please, not now, not when I’ve already—’_

Perhaps Sorey notices the horror in Mikleo’s expression, as his own brows furrow in concern. “Mikleo? What’s wrong?”

Mikleo’s voice is weaker than he’d like when he finally urges it from his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Someone already asked me.”

For a long moment, Sorey looks only at him, emotions flitting past his eyes, too fast for Mikleo to read. When he speaks, his own voice is just as quiet as Mikleo’s. “And you said yes?”

Bitter regret dances on Mikleo’s tongue, and it’s all he can do to nod.

“Oh,” Sorey says. “I see.”

All Mikleo wants to do is to pull Sorey close to him, to apologise a thousand times, to find Uno immediately and take back his acceptance.

But before Mikleo can think even to apologise, Sorey moulds his expression into a forced smile, one which doesn’t completely mask the pain hiding behind it.

“I’m sure you’ll have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mikleo.”

With that, Sorey takes off, leaving Mikleo alone in the garden with the soft moonlight and the feeling of defeat.

 

* * *

 

 

Mikleo’s first instinct is that this feels wrong.

Dressing himself for the ball, taking time to comb his hair and to place his circlet beneath it, barely visible except as a glint in the light. Pinning an anemone to the place over his heart in celebration of a festival of flowers, hoping no one knows its meaning. Taking Uno’s arm when he comes to meet him, walking on his right and feeling imbalanced.

But there’s no going back now. He’s already made this mistake, and now he must see it through to the end.

The Midsummer’s Ball is as grand as ever. Ivy trails around the arch leading into the gardens, the sound of a string quartet playing in the distance. Lanterns light up the evening sky, and the gardens themselves are filled with blooming flowers, all cultivated for this night. Many people are already gathered in the square, laughing and drinking and generally being merry. In the distance, he can see Rose’s bright red hair tilt backward as she laughs with a tall man who Mikleo doesn’t recognise. He wishes he could go up to them and chat casually, like he does every year.

This year, however, he is at the side of an almost stranger, who leads him to the refreshment table and offers him a drink. Mikleo declines the wine, already sick to his stomach without the influence of alcohol. Instead, he takes a glass of water, sipping at it as Uno makes small talk.

He could have been with Sorey, right now. Instead of making tedious conversation about how nice the ball is and how well everyone is dressed and how much time it must have taken to set everything up, he could have been laughing at one of Sorey’s jokes, fixing his messy hair, dancing with him.

It’s a vindictive thought, but he could be having a much better night, if only he hadn’t gotten ahead of himself.

Of course, he can’t put all the blame on himself - it’s Sorey who lied to Alisha about having a date, and who put the idea into Mikleo’s head that there was no hope again this year. It’s Sorey who should have told him sooner.

But it’s Sorey who should be by his side right now, too.

“Mikleo?” Uno says, lightly touching Mikleo’s arm with his free hand. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Mikleo chokes out, shying away from his touch. “What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you’d like to dance,” Uno says, glancing over to the main square for a moment, to where a crowd of couples are already spinning together. “If you’re not feeling well, though-”

“Yeah,” Mikleo says. “Let’s dance.”

He puts his glass down on the table and heads to the dance area with Uno, who seems surprised by his forwardness, but not unsettled. Once they get there, Uno puts a hand on Mikleo’s waist, taking his right hand with the other. His grip is gentle, almost like it isn’t there, his hands smaller and smoother than Mikleo is used to. They keep each other at a distance, even as Mikleo puts his left hand on Uno’s shoulder, and they begin to dance.

To say the least, it’s awkward. Though they both know how to dance, neither knows how to make conversation, and they end up dancing a foot apart without a word passing either of their lips. Mikleo keeps his gaze locked on Uno’s collarbone, not daring to look up in case he has to think of something to say.

Luckily, it is Uno who speaks first.

“There’s a man over there who keeps looking at you,” he comments. “Do you know him?”

Lifting his head, Mikleo casts his gaze to where Uno directs it, noticing a familiar head of brown hair, tidied for the event, with feathered earrings making the identity of the person unmistakable. Mikleo doesn’t allow himself to look for long enough to see his expression.

“That’s Sorey,” Mikleo says quietly.

Uno hums, and the hand on Mikleo’s hip increases its grip for a moment. “Is he alright? He looks like he’s in pain.”

At the words, Mikleo’s left hand clenches Uno’s shoulder a tad too tightly, and he bites out a quick apology. Then, in a low voice, he asks, “Does he really?”

He feels Uno’s eyes return to him for a moment before Uno replies. “He does. Perhaps he is jealous.”

“I doubt it. Sorey doesn’t get jealous.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Before Mikleo can react, Uno pulls him closer, so that rather than dancing at a careful distance, it’s more like they’re hugging whilst moving, now. His body is warm against Mikleo’s, but not in a comforting sense. Rather, it’s almost suffocating, especially when Uno’s lips brush against Mikleo’s ear, his breath tickling the shell.

“He’s definitely jealous,” Uno whispers.

As they turn around, Mikleo chances a glance in Sorey’s direction. His green eyes are sharp with pain, his lips pressed firmly together as he averts his gaze, brows furrowed deeply. At his sides, his hands are clenched into fists. Mikleo has never seen Sorey so frustrated before.

Uno guides them to another part of the floor, moving back into their former dance hold. For this, Mikleo is glad. Finally, he can breathe again, though the hands holding him still don’t help.

“Is he a suitor of yours?” Uno asks, blue eyes bearing only curiosity.

Mikleo bites his lip, turning his gaze to the ground. “No. He’s my best friend.”

“He seems to have a deeper interest in you than that,” Uno says lightly.

Where in times previous, Mikleo might have refuted Uno’s words, now he finds himself unsure. He can only stay quiet, hoping his uncertainty doesn’t bleed into his expression.

He must fail, however, since Uno’s smile is all-knowing.

“After all these years of refusing every invitation,” Uno says, “why did you accept mine?”

Sighing, Mikleo knows he has no choice but to answer. “I thought it would help me move on, since I could never go to the ball with Sorey. But he ended up asking me last night.”

“And yet, you still came with me.” Uno smiles at him, but less in kindness and more like he’s biting back laughter. “You certainly are gracious.”

“It’s hardly gracious for me to be speaking about another man whilst I’m dancing with you,” Mikleo replies, frowning up at him.

Suddenly, they stop, and Uno lets go of Mikleo’s waist. “Why are you still with me, then? If he is the one you’d rather be with, by all means, go.”

Mikleo hesitates, searching for an ulterior motive in those eyes. All he can find, however, is amusement. “And what about you?”

“I’ll be quite alright,” Uno says. He squeezes Mikleo’s hand one last time before letting go. “Go and find who you’re meant to be with.”

With a final nod of thanks, Mikleo turns and heads out of the crowd, towards where he’d last seen Sorey standing. Once he reaches that place, however, he does not find the one he’s searching for. He pushes past cheerful strangers gripping glasses of champagne, his heart racing as his eyes search for something familiar, something he knows better than himself.

They find Rose first.

“Rose,” he says, interrupting whatever conversation she’d been having with the same tall stranger from before, a man with white hair and a top hat. “Have you seen Sorey?”

Blinking at him, Rose raises an eyebrow. “I think he went for a walk, or something. What happened to that guy I saw you with earlier?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

He rushes off again, leaving his friend confused. He can explain to her later, though. Right now, there’s a more important issue at hand.

Heading out of the main ball area, he makes his way through the gardens, passing flowers of all kinds and a few concealed couples too, his eyes never lingering for too long before they continue their search. His heart and mind race, trying to see what will win - Mikleo’s stamina or the thoughts passing through his mind, filling him with worry.

_‘What if Sorey is gone what if he’s left already what if he hates you what if he’s angry what if you’ve ruined everything-’_

Mentally, he silences these thoughts with one counterattack: Sorey looked sad. Whether he hates Mikleo or not doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that Mikleo finds him and sets things right, for both of them.

Finally, after who knows how long of searching, he stumbles across an open area with a view to the stars. Beneath the trees, looking up into the sky, is the one he’s searching for, his back to Mikleo.

Mikleo doesn’t even give himself a chance to catch his breath.

“Sorey,” he says, voice weaker than he’d like.

His best friend turns to face him, surprise painting his expression in wide eyes and an o-shaped mouth. “Mikleo? What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” Mikleo summons his courage and heads towards Sorey, leaving a couple of feet between them, for comfort. “Why did you lie?”

This makes Sorey’s expression become tainted by confusion, and his eyebrows turn inward. “What do you mean?”

“Alisha told me about her confession to you,” Mikleo says. “She told me you said you already had a date to the ball, but you told me that no one asked you.”

For a moment, Sorey freezes. Then, recovering, his expression turns to one of regret, a pained smile crossing his lips. “When did she tell you?”

“About an hour after it happened.”

“I had hoped she wouldn’t say anything,” Sorey admits, keeping his eyes locked to the ground.

Mikleo frowns. “If you were more straightforward about your intentions, I’d never have accepted Uno’s invitation, you know.”

This makes Sorey’s eyes shoot back up to meet his. “Huh?”

“If you wanted to go to the ball with me,” Mikleo says, trying to keep his tone even, “you could have just asked me, instead of using our promise as a roundabout way of doing things. Someone asks you every year, Sorey. Do you really think I’d have believed your lie even if Alisha hadn’t told me already?”

“I never was any good at lying anyway,” Sorey says with a laugh. “I’m sorry.”

Sighing, Mikleo shakes his head. “What’s done is done. As long as you know not to draw it out like this next time.”

“Next time?”

“Next time you decide you want to go to the ball with me.”

Sorey hesitates for a moment before stepping forward, closing the distance until their chests are inches apart. “If I ask you properly next time, will you accept?”

“Just so long as you’re not an idiot about it, probably.”

“Then what if I asked you for a dance right now?”

Mikleo takes a moment to answer, more to tease Sorey than anything. “Yes, I’d like that.”

A warm light enters Sorey’s eyes, and he smiles, offering a hand to Mikleo. When Mikleo takes it, it is warm and rough against his skin, covered by the callouses of heavy labour. His other hand, when it meets Mikleo’s waist, is large and comforting, its weight familiar and new all at once. When Mikleo puts his hand on Sorey’s shoulder, it feels right.

Their chests are pressed against each other and their faces are closer than ever before, and it feels right.

They move together, slowly, to the distant sound of the chamber orchestra, trying their best to hold each other’s gaze despite their inexperience with such close contact. Still, as they continue to dance, they relax in each other’s arms, until Mikleo’s hand plays with the hair on the nape of Sorey’s neck and Sorey pulls Mikleo closer, putting his head where Uno’s had been not long before, except this time it feels welcome, sending a shiver down Mikleo’s spine when Sorey murmurs into his ear.

“I couldn’t stand it,” he admits. “Seeing him pull you close, his hands on you.”

“To be fair, it was unexpected,” Mikleo says, his chin resting against Sorey’s shoulder. “I wasn’t particularly comfortable, myself.”

“Is it okay like this?” Sorey asks, almost moving back.

Except Mikleo grips Sorey’s hand tighter, his chest pressing closer to Sorey’s.

“This is good,” Mikleo whispers.

A puff of warm breath passes over Mikleo’s ear. “I’m glad.”

They stay that way for a long time, pressed as close as can be to each other, happy in each other’s embrace.

(And when Sorey eventually pulls away, it is only enough for Mikleo to pull him in again, letting their lips connect in a lingering kiss.)

 

* * *

 

The same thing happens every year afterwards.

Sorey and Mikleo make a promise: this year, they will go to the Midsummer’s Ball together. They will spend the night dancing together, laughing together, enjoying a night in the company of their friends. They will return to that starry area and take a moment to themselves, commemorating the spot of their first dance, their first embrace, their first kiss.

They will joke about the night they got together, remembering the awkward congratulations from Uno once they returned to the main square, hand-in-hand. They will tease each other about how long they’d danced around each other for before dancing together. They will murmur the same words they exchanged for the first time that evening, once the dance ended and all that remained was the two of them, in Mikleo’s garden, reluctant to let each other go.

Because now they know about each other’s feelings, and the dance is the reason why.

And Mikleo couldn’t be happier.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me [@luzrofrulay](http://twitter.com/luzrofrulay) on twitter / [@luzrof-rulay](http://luzrof-rulay.tumblr.com) on tumblr for more Tales Of ramblings | [@randomactuallywrites-57](http://randomactuallywrites-57.tumblr.com) on tumblr for more writing!


End file.
